


Cold Day in Hell

by FullSizeRender



Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Currently In Progress, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, high intensity action
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-25 02:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9799028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullSizeRender/pseuds/FullSizeRender
Summary: A huntress that wants nothing more than to collect plants for a living finds herself in over her head when a simple retrieval quest goes awry.





	1. A Desperate Plea

            Nestled into the mountainside is a small village perpetually caught in winter's icy embrace: Pokke. Relatively off the map for the common folk, it has become a rather important checkpoint for hunters who are strong enough--or perhaps foolish enough--to weather the harsh conditions that batter the mountain's upper cliffs, and face the fearsome monsters that thrive in such hostile conditions. It's here that Runa has established what slowly became her permanent residence, thanks to rent skyrocketing in cities and villages closer to the guild's main hub. People were willing to pay thousands upon thousands of zenny for convenience, but it was Runa's wallet that was going to get the last laugh.

            A strikingly elegant woman of porcelain complexion, short stature and a wire thin frame, the twenty year old Runa was raised to be a huntress. Unfortunately for her family, her painstaking daily beauty ritual and severe distaste for manual labor said she wanted to be anything but.

            Her father swung a Hammer so hard each hit crackled like thunder, and her mother had unmatched aerial superiority with her Insect Glaive. Even her sister Tarja--the pride and joy of the family--hefted the massive hunk of steel and monster scraps that is a Great Sword with ease. But where they had the homicidal tendencies it took to kill monsters freely, Runa found herself enthralled with butterflies and chasing Kelbi. She picked up the Light Bowgun purely so she could observe nature from a distance, and scarcely pulled the trigger until she realized she needed to make a living for herself. Her family loved her all the same despite her peace-loving nature, but she couldn't lie to herself: she didn't fit in with them. When the time finally came, it was easy for her to take the first airship to anywhere that wasn't home.

            Her lack of familial bonds did little to dent her overbearingly kind disposition, though. Wherever she goes she has a sprightly spring in her step, and a genuine smile brighter than a flash bomb. Her pack is often as full of flowers and herbs as it is of bullets, and she spends most of her days rummaging through berry bushes. That isn't to say that she lacks the skills to be a huntress-far from it, in fact. But when choosing between a monster that could kill her and a flower that won't, she tends to lean for the latter.

            Clad in a set of floppy-eared Lagombi armor with a long-barreled sniper rifle slung over her shoulder, Runa emerges from her humble home to bathe the dawn's orange and yellow glow as it creeps over the tree line. All she could think about were the hardy snow herbs growing in concealed patches of living soil up on the Arctic Ridge, whose ice cold leaves were adorned with beautiful white streaks. She thought they would look simply stunning hanging from her ceiling, and was prepared to dedicate an entire day to tracking down the green and white streaked plants. _If only being a plant hunter was an actual profession rather than a strangely obsessive hobby,_ Runa ponders with an amused chuckle. _Then I'd make some real money._

            With a short trip down the hill Runa reaches the town proper, where the fresh-faced villagers were also preparing themselves for another day of hard work. The blacksmith's chimney begins to churn out thick billows of black smoke as its forge awakens, ready for its next creation. The Felyne running the general store awoke from its store briefly, if only to turn its sign from 'Closed' to 'Open". However, the star of the morning was the salty, gamey smell of fresh Popo tongue being cooked. The morning simply wouldn't be complete without one of the iterant cook's made-to-order meals. Runa, being solely a huntress and having no early morning obligations to attend to, confidently struts past felynes and humans alike to claim her usual spot as the outdoor cafe's first customer.

             The felyne cook's eyes light up as his first customer of the day approaches, setting the tray of food down as Runa took a seat on a tree stump seat. Villagers stole glances at the young woman's massive platter of food while attempting to ignore their own growling stomachs, the very sight of the steaming breakfast delights enough to hasten their work. Runa didn't blame them for staring; after all, not even she could cook a breakfast this good, and she had a few scorched pans that agreed with her.

            "So tell me huntress," The felyne cook speaks from his perch on the edge of his large black cauldron, stirring up what Runa could only assume is some sort of stew. "Have you heard the news about the mountain? It's paws-itivly catastrophic!"

            The dainty huntress briefly looks up from her platter--now half empty--to slightly shake her head and show her lack of knowledge. Runa hardly kept up with her own responsibilities, spending a majority of her time tending to her home garden and decorating her home with neat plants. She didn't exactly have time to keep up with the latest gossip around the village, nor did she seek it. Luckily for her the cook kept up with everything she needed to know, and whenever she sat down for a meal she got an earful of it.

            "Well the word from the other felynes is that there's a monster up there, and it's not one of the normal ones either. They say it's big! Real big! Bigger than a whole pack of Blangongas stacked on top of each other!"

            "What?" Runa gulps down the last of her meal before sitting back to process the cat's strange description. The size comparison was a little unorthodox, but something about it had to be true, didn't it? She breathes a lengthy sigh of contemplation, running through a mental encyclopedia of monsters. "Are you sure it isn't just a king-sized Gammoth? They're actually nothing to be afraid of as long as you don't walk into their territory. Otherwise, you're asking for trouble."

            It's the felyne's turn to shake its head now, halting its stirring as it tugs at its whiskers nervously. Its brown-and-white spotted fur bristles, the bipedal cat's little body visibly shaking.

            "It was even larger than a Gammoth, and its hide was disgusting. Covered in awful glowing scars, they say. That's the most the Dragonwatchers could see before..."

            "Before...?" Runa's on the edge of her seat now, eyes as wide as dinner saucers as she waits desperately for the end of the cook's story. _Surely they didn't die_ , _did they?_ She nervously ponders as she chews on the inside of her cheek like a piece of Mosswine Jerky. But the cat's story trails off without a happy ending, and the normally cheerful huntress is left with a sullen reminder of how dangerous of a profession hunting could be. Everyone's luck had to run out sometime, and Runa had no idea how much she had left...

            With her mood thoroughly cut down to size, Runa slides off of the tree stump with a heavy groan, holding her light bowgun a little tighter to her body. The sturdy metal frame pressed against her back gave her a smidgen of comfort, but it wasn't nearly enough. She had yet to find a monster she couldn't slay with a barrage of bullets, but something about the cook's story dug deep under her skin. What if that beast is still up on the mountain?

            She clutches her midsection, anxiety upsetting her stomach as her amber eyes scan over the icy white peaks, the lingering gray clouds churning about like the remains of her breakfast. Her rumbling gut told her to stay in and spend the day taking care of little chores around the house, but those snow herbs wouldn't gather themselves. Against her better judgment, Runa finds herself approaching the sharply dressed guild representative, a woman who seemed more out of place than a Plesioth swimming around in Ingle Isle.

            "Good morning!" Shirley, Pokke's hunter's guild representative, greets Runa through chattering teeth, her smile frozen onto her face. The outfit the guild required was nothing if it wasn't stylish; the guild receptionists always had to look good, even if the wide-bottomed skirt and Qurupeco yellow top did little to fight the biting cold. Her shivering hands fumble with a small black notebook stamped with the guild's insignia hanging on her hip before she extends it out to Runa. "Is there a p-particular quest you're looking for today?"

            Runa always feels a twinge of sympathy for the poor woman, forced to stand out in the cold and accommodate the often erratic flow of hunters to the mountain village at all times of the day. _Surely she's being paid well_ , she thinks. _Why else would anyone take such a raw deal_? The young huntress plucks the notebook from Shirley's trembling hands, skipping multiple pages at a time until she finds the list of high rank quests, eyes glossing over the stars that denoted difficulty with indecision. She wasn't looking for any particular target, but the guild couldn't allow her to enter a hunting ground unless it was on official business. It's a frustrating rule, but she understands the need to keep the regular citizens safe.

            Suddenly, a quest catches her eye-or rather, the reward does. A whopping 12000z just to hunt a Gammoth? _I'd be able to buy all the snow herbs I wanted with that kind of zenny!_ Her finger taps excitedly against the quest, placing the little notebook back in Shirley's waiting palm.

            "I'm gonna be hunting a Gammoth!" Runa declares proudly, hand instinctively reaching up to adjust the strap to her long necked rifle. "How long would it take for you to arrange a carriage up there?"

            Shirley's smile drops like an icicle; Runa swears the woman's eye twitches, but it happens too fast for her to be sure. The guild rep's head shakes violently, tucking the notebook under her arm tightly. She even takes a step away from the requesting huntress, as though Runa had contracted the frenzy virus.

            "Th...that area of the mountain is off limits, as of two days ago. I'm afraid I can't request a transport." Shirley murmurs, her normally unwavering eye contact now locked onto the snow she's shuffling her boots in. Runa's eyes narrow, her lips pursing tightly together as she scrunches her nose. She's never been denied the ability to hunt before, and by a guild representative no less!

            "What? Why? I'm an experienced huntress, I have my high rank permit ri-" Runa reaches for her bag to retrieve the neatly folded card but Shirley's icy, ungloved hand shoots like a bullet and holds Runa's wrist in a death vice. Runa flinches, unable to draw her  trembling hand back and break free. That's when she sees it: the pure, unadulterated fear in her eyes, like a wounded animal backed into a corner. Shirley's desperate to keep the huntress here in the village.

            "I-I sent three hunters and a Palico to do this quest. To hunt this Gammoth." Her rushed words tumble like an avalanche from between her iced lips, yanking Runa in uncomfortably close. "I didn't do the research before I sent them out, and now...now-" Her grip goes limp, tearless sobs choking up her speech. Runa simply frowns; it's a little overwhelming to see the normally unnervingly happy woman breaking down in such an embarrassing manner.

            She draws the hysteric woman into a hesitant embrace, gently patting her back as her sobbing evolves into full-blown wailing that's loud enough to draw the attention of a few villagers.

            "There, there. It's not your fault..." Runa murmurs, head swiveling about and meeting the eyes of whispering villagers that were watching them like hungry scavengers. _All I wanted was a hunt, not this sob story..._ She nibbles at her bottom lip anxiously, impatiently waiting for Shirley to calm down enough to be coherent. It takes a solid few minutes of muffled grieving for Pokke's rep to finally pull herself away, wiping away hot tears of guilt from her bloodshot eyes.

            "I think the worst part is that no one's even seen the bodies! A storm kicked up as they got ambushed, and when it finally ended...the Dragonwatchers could only see one body. And not even a full body, just the torso! Felynes won't go near the place to find and carry the bodies back..."

            "If the Palicos won't...I will. Someone's got to bring them home, even if they're..." Runa is cut off as Shirley gasps, furiously shaking her head once more.

            "You're out of your mind! Please, think about what you're saying!" She pleads with Runa fervently, but the huntress holds her hand out to silence the quest giver. Runa had made up her mind, and didn't want to waste any more daylight than she needed to. The quicker she could get out there, the sooner she could come home-alive, hopefully.

            "I'll at least bring back their weapons, if nothing else. Their families deserve to have some way to remember the dead. Just sign me up for the Gammoth hunt and I'll bring back one of its tusks so we don't end up in hot water with the Guild."

            Shirley's eyes fill with blissful tears as Runa offers her a cautious smile as a show of understanding. _It's a suicide mission, but...aren't most hunts? There's never been a guarantee that I'd come back. It's just the right thing to do..._ Runa's thoughts, while morbid, do more to build her confidence than any pep talk ever could. She's used to tackling every hunt like it could be her last, but being faced with an unknown threat leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

            "I'll arrange for the transport, miss...?" The guild rep speaks between sniffles.

            "Runa. Please, just call me Runa." The young huntress replies as she reassuringly pats the woman on the shoulder.

            She stands with Shirley for a moment longer to make sure she'd be alright on her own before trotting back to her small cottage to double check her item stores. She had a sneaking suspicion that she was already loaded on bullets, but between the cook and the guild rep, she was her shaken down to her core.

            _Can I do this? Sure I've got a high rank license, but it's just a piece of paper. Monsters aren't going to be scared of a piece of paper. How am I going to kill something that three people couldn't?_ Fearful thoughts swirl through her mind as she sifts through the contents of her item box, absently plucking bundles of bullets that she had purposely left behind to make room for snow herbs. Normal, pierce, crag, pellet...the list seems endless to the anxious huntress, and every bullet feels like it weighs a ton in her shoulder bag.

            Her pounding heart and trembling legs beg her to reconsider. A mission like this is probably better left to the Ace Hunters, she feels. The Ace Hunters are a collection of the guild's finest, dispatched to every corner of the globe for the quests that were just too far out of a high rank hunter's pay grade. But they were busy killing elder dragons in far off lands, according to the tidbits of news Pokke got from time to time. They wouldn't waste their time traveling all the way up here for a small village in the mountains. If she didn't do this, no one would...

            As Runa returns to Shirley down the hill, she finds the guild rep hard at work packing boxes of rations and first aid medicines into a covered wagon. To have travel arrangements sorted out this fast is a rarity, and only served to underline the urgency of Runa's mission.

            "Are you even allowed to put things in the wagon? I thought you were only supposed to hand out the quests!" Runa jokingly calls out with a small smile, watching the fluorescent colored woman dart back and forth with frosty boxes in her arms.

            "I'm not," Her simple words hang in the air as she passes the huntress by, setting a final crate labeled as 'Hot Drinks' inside of the wagon before brushing her hands off with a satisfied sigh. "I'm also not supposed to be accompanying you to the hunting grounds either, and yet here we are."

            "Hold on, you're steering the wagon?" The huntress asks incredulously. "Have you ever led Popo before? Or...anything? Anything at all? Have you even touched a wild animal?"

            "Word's spread about the beast on the ridge, Runa." Shirley replied, hoisting herself into the driver's seat with a considerable amount of effort. She takes the reins into her hands, thumbs brushing back and forth against the rough leather strips that held the Popos in line. "No one wants to set foot up there. So I...I have to do it myself. If you're dedicated to this, then so am I."

            _So she's only escorting me up there. I'm still gonna be alone on the ridge. Should've seen that coming..._ Exhaling her disappointment through her nostrils, Runa climbs up next to the emboldened guild rep, ignoring the pit feeling in her stomach.

            The two women exchange uneasy glances in silence; the fearful tension shared between them was palpable. But there's no turning back for either one of them now. Shirley cracks the reins and destroys the silence, the Popos groaning to life and beginning the slow ascent to the Arctic Ridge base camp.

 

            They were heading right into the belly of the beast, and neither one couldn't even say what they were about to be digested by.


	2. An Ill-fated Discovery

            "Why did you take this request, Runa?" Shirley asks, her eyes staying locked on the trampled dirt path ahead of them. The question catches Runa off guard, coming after an hour of uncomfortable silence where the heavy but rhythmic footsteps of Popos filled in the lack of words.

            "Er..." Runa shifts in her seat, her thoughts of the snowy mountain now forcibly set aside for an unexpected conversation. "I thought I told you earlier. If I don't do it, the families of those hunters will never get closure."

            "I don't want to be rude, but...you didn't strike me as the altruistic type. So I just had to ask." Runa cringes, curling into herself at the guild rep's words. _This isn't much of a pep talk before a hunt..._ She thinks with a grimace. "You just seem so pretty and dainty! Not to say that huntresses can't be pretty, but- I don't think I'm making sense-"

            "I think I know what you're saying." Runa tugs on the floppy bunny ears of her Lagombi armor, speaking quietly. "I don't look like a huntress. I get it."

            "Yeah...yeah. That's what I meant." Shirley hesitates, her breath hitching as a lump forms in her throat. "I'm sorry I had to ask, it was just eating me up inside."

            "I'm not mad or anything, it's just..." Runa heaves a deep sigh, the steam her breath creates briefly enveloping her face before fading away. "I've never looked or felt like a huntress. I chase butterflies. I hate dirt. I think monster guts are icky. If I didn't need to make a living, I don't even think I'd touch a weapon. But as much as I love collecting plants, I value my parents' opinion more. I send them a letter every week, and I'm not about to lie to them."

            For the first time, Shirley tears her eyes off the path to give Runa a sympathetic smile and nod. This would be one hell of a story for her parents, even if it's potentially too dangerous for her to handle alone. She understands the position that Runa is in, and why she's risking her life.

            "So to answer your question..." Runa straightens up, feeling as though a weight has been lifted off of her back. Gushing like that felt relaxing, even if it would be the last time she could tell her story. "I want snow herbs. But if I happen to come back with a tale or two, I'll take that too."  She playfully shrugs, a small smile creeping its way onto her face.

            The silence for the rest of the ride up feels far less tense.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

            Shirley cracks the reins one more time as the Popos reach the designated base camp site, and a few of them groan as they slow to a halt. Runa hops off first, her gaze fixated on the colossal mountain that was now within walking distance. No matter how often she scaled the cliff sides, fish at Pokke's lake or hand feed the local kelbis, the sight of that ominous peak made her mouth run dry. It seemed like nature had a flair for the dramatic, and this just screamed 'dark and foreboding'--at least, for Runa.

            "I have no idea how much space you have left in your bag, so...take everything you need." Shirley slides off, hitting the ground with an ungraceful stumble. After brushing dirt off of her loafers, she scurries around to the back of the wagon and lifts the cover to reveal the crates of supplies she packed earlier.

            "Awful lot for a day trip, isn't it?" Runa teases as she offloads a few of the wooden boxes, using the filthy, guild-provided cot as a staging area. Not once had she ever felt the desire to lay on the sheets (she wasn't even certain they had ever been washed), but at least it would be a good place for her to spread the supplies out. First aid medicines, small rations of jerky and bread, whetstones...Shirley had thought of everything. There isn't much that Runa hadn't already packed but extra medicine and food were always handy, as well as the map to the hunting grounds. This may be standard faire for guild hunters, but this isn't exactly a standard mission.

            "I took everything the store was willing to spare. I figured having too much would better than not having enough, so..." Shirley admits meekly, fidgeting with her sleeves.

            "I'm not complaining, trust me!" An amused smile flashes across Runa's face briefly as she faces the guild rep before her eyes naturally fall on the path to her right, leading from the camp to the mountain's approach. "I should probably get going. Being out at nightfall is a recipe for disaster..."

            "Right, of course. Oh! Before I forget-" Shirley rushes back to the wagon and rummages through the remaining boxes before returning with an orb, heavily wrapped with cloth in one hand and matches in the other. "A Farcaster! If you find something-"

            " _When_ I find something." Runa quickly interjects.

            "Yes, absolutely. _When_ you find something, light that up and you can signal the Dragonwatchers! They'll point you back to base camp!" Shirley gingerly places the smoke bomb and matches into Runa's gloved palms. "Please, come back."

            "I have to, don't I? Dead people are terrible storytellers." Runa jokes dryly, masking a sense of impending dread under a facade of confidence. It's enough for Shirley, who responds with a few silent chuckles and a nod of acceptance. The huntress pushes the Farcaster and its igniters into her bag and, with a final half-hearted curtsy, marches off down the beaten path into the unknown.

            The base of the mountain is serene, to say the very least. The lake is still and crystal clear, with nary a ripple to spoil the picturesque view. Both brown and blue kelbi alike frolic together, eying Runa with curiosity and not fear, showing no signs of fleeing. The only real sounds came from the unseen chirping of Stinkhoppers and Gluegloppers, and even their incessant chitterling couldn't pierce the calm atmosphere. It was a strange juxtaposition; the upper reaches of the mountain were abuzz with the howls and roars of dangerous game, but the base was as peaceful as the heavens themselves. It almost felt like the two areas weren't supposed to be connected to each other, but some freak accident of nature mashed the two of them together.

            As the young gunner follows the well-trodden dirt path further, she sees where the dirt ends and the cliff side climbing path begins, complete with a series of ledges that jutted out just far enough for her to stand on. The shrieks of young Velociprey break the silence, a trio of the black-and-blue striped bird wyverns wrestling with each other for what Runa could only assume is dominance. _They're cute when they're young,_ Runa smiles as she stops to them scratch and kick at each other. _Too bad they don't stay that way. Real shame._

            With nothing else to gawk at and hold her up, Runa takes a few steps back to get a running start on climbing, clapping her gloved hands together to psyche herself. It only takes a moment for her to take off like a bullet, the brief burst of speed just enough to allow her to scramble up the rugged wall and pull herself up over the first ledge. It wasn’t the most graceful solution, but it saved her hands some unnecessary work. After that it’s child’s play for her to hoist herself up the next few waist-high ledges, leaving one final obstacle: the vines.

            She’s not sure how long the thicket of vines has been growing there, but she’s never had a good experience with them. Each time she’s held them, she feels them give ever so slightly under her weight, or could swear that they’re coming apart as she climbs. And yet, every time she returns they’re flush against the wall, as motionless and sturdy as the day she first climbed them. Whether it was a fear of heights or her own delusions that made the climb difficult she had yet to determine, but there’s one thing she knew for sure: she despised this part of the climb.

            Runa grabs hold of two strong looking vines and takes a deep breath, her eyes trained skyward as she begins her ascent. She reaches out a quivering hand and tugs at the vine before she pulls herself upward, caution diminishing her progress to naught more than a snail’s pace. But it works for her, and her keen eyes don’t catch anything out of the ordinary on the vines. Suddenly an earsplitting screech collides with her eardrums, the mighty bellow of a beast further into the mountain’s depths rattling her down to her very bones. She braces herself against the rock wall, her grip tightening on the vines and her eyes squeezing shut. It feels like an eternity before the roar finally subsides, and even when it does all the gunner can hear is an unbearably painful ringing. Tears prick her burnt umber eyes as she continues her climb, fighting the urge to hold her ears until she could plant her feet on solid ground again.

            “What in the world was that...?” Runa mutters as she massages her inner ears with her thumbs. “That’s not any Gammoth I’ve ever heard. Too loud, too...sinister.” Her body vibrates with a full-body shiver, exhaling apprehensively through her nostrils. Between the cook’s story, Shirley’s hysterical sobbing and now the mysterious roar, the huntress can’t seem to stay calm. She can already feel her hands jittering, and having the shakes as a gunner would make her about as effective as a broken blade. At this rate, she’s going to be the one that needs saving.

            Another set of vines lay in wait at her right, offering Runa a speedier—but more difficult—route up the mountain, but she couldn’t bring herself to undertake another perilous escalation with her ears ringing the way they were. Instead, she turns her attention to a man-sized opening in the side of the mountain, a hole leading to the frigid cave system housed within. Wind kicks up snow and pushes tufts of slush out, giving Runa a taste of just how cold the peak’s bowels would be. The Lagombi armor is warm, but is nothing more than glorified pajamas in the face of extreme temperatures like these. Good thing she came prepared.

           Runa fishes out a glass jar filled with red liquid from her pack, uncorking the jar simply labeled ‘HOT’ by its creator. This aptly named ‘hot drink’ in itself was not hot to the touch, but the overabundance of peppers and diluting of the tongue-blistering fire herb into a jar of water led to a drink that singed the taste buds of unaccustomed consumers-and warmed the bodies of hunters and huntresses worldwide. The flavor, as she’s soon reminded, is like eating a mouthful of hot sand (which she can unfortunately attest to), but its helpful warmth spreads like a calming wildfire through her body. At this point, she couldn’t feel a chill in her body if she tried. No matter how comfortable the heat made her feel, she couldn’t soothe the ringing in her ears…

           The inside of the mountain looks like it’s made of pure crystal, the ice lining the blue walls and floor smooth and translucent. Even the icicles look flawless, the icy ceiling fixtures so perfect that Runa could swear that an artisan came through and shaped them all themselves. The transition from the outdoors to this crystalline palace is a bit jarring for Runa, who doesn’t stop to take in her surroundings until she’s nearly entered another ice corridor. It’s breathtaking, sure, but she isn’t in the right mindset to enjoy it with her ears still ringing. Far below her, a few Blangos (Juvenile Blagongas) shriek and pound their chests in imitation of their parents, looking agitated. Is something down there? She can see the makings of a nest, but the drop is so steep that she might as well be trying to spot the wings on a beetle in a sandstorm. She squints and squeezes her eyes as much as she can to get a better view, even coming dangerously close to the edge before common sense kicks in and she scurries to press her back against the wall. _They’re probably just fighting with each other or something. Monsters do that, that’s not unusual._ Runa dismisses her thoughts as paranoia as she saunters further into the icy caverns.

            She emerges from the other end of the corridor into an area as open as an amphitheater, complete with two Bullfango clashing over some mountain herbs one of them had dug up. They were the bane of her existence when they were focused on her, so she relished in the opportunity to sneak past them without incident. However, passing by monsters going about their business as usual got her mind working once again. _What if I’m too late?_ Runa’s brow furrows with deep concern as she trots up an incline toward a massive exit hole. _What if that…thing…wandered away from the mountain? Is this just a wild Gargwa chase?_ The huntress’ pace picks up noticeably until she escapes from the confines of the cave.

            Thankfully for Runa, the cave’s ceiling extended out far enough that it caught the falling snow for her, keeping her from eating a face full of snowflakes the second she stepped out. But there’s no beast to be seen, Gammoth or otherwise. Though outside, the lack of monsters big or small seems a little less than normal, the dainty huntress’ instincts reminding her to be on her guard.

            “The absence of monsters does not mean that monsters are absent…” Runa murmurs. Wise words from her father that she always held on to, even if she didn’t hunt much. Something stinks, she can feel that much. But as her eyes scan for clues—tracks, dung, blood, **anything** —she can’t find a shred of evidence that could point her to a conclusion. Two days’ worth of snow likely covered up any trails by now, but she trudges through the powder with her eyes trained downward regardless, purposely kicking up snow with every step. It’s a longshot, but she’s hoping to uncover anything nature might’ve buried. The slush falls around her with muffled ‘thuds’ and ‘plops’ as she haphazardly investigates the snowed-over area, until a ‘squish’ against the tip of her shoe makes her shriek and stumble backwards onto her butt.

            Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she scrambles to stand and compose herself, her tiny heart smashing against her ribcage. Runa isn’t even sure what she’s stumbled her way into, but the fact that it didn’t feel soft nor did it move when she kicked it already had her terrified. Her heavy, fearful breathing lingers in the still air as she creeps up to see the unidentified object, and when it finally comes back into view…she wishes she hadn’t.

            A hunter—or huntress, Runa couldn’t tell—had been ripped in half down the middle, and what’s left is nothing short of unrecognizable. It takes every ounce of willpower for her not to vomit as she hesitantly nudges the snow-coated corpse with her heel, examining the wounds with a mitten covering her mouth. It wasn’t a clean split, she determines. The wounds are inconsistently shaped, jagged curves being all that remained of a massive beast’s efforts to tear chunks out of this poor hunter. The bile in her stomach makes a new home in her throat, forcing her to end her post-mortem search prematurely. Then again, did she really need to see anything else?

            _Gods protect me…_ Runa forcibly swallows her bile, clutching her stomach as she looks anywhere that isn’t the unearthed cadaver. _This is very, very bad. I only know of a few monsters that can take bites that size. Lagombi’s too small, just like Tigrex and Khezu are. No one’s seen a Zamtrios here in ages, and Kushala’s a legend. That leaves-_

            Her thoughts are suddenly interrupted by another deafening roar, this time much, much closer. The beastly rumbling lasts even longer this time, the huntress wincing as she does the best she can to block the roar with her mittens, but to no avail. Wherever or whatever it is, its cry is ghastly. The roar subsides after a few moments, but the newfound trembling in her legs does not. She didn’t feel particularly weak, but every couple of seconds she could feel her knees knock against each other.

            It takes her two seconds to realize that there’s a steady pattern that her trembling knees follow.

            Four seconds and she figures out that she herself isn’t the reason her knees are knocking against each other.

            As the sixth second passes, Runa whips her Hunter’s Rifle off of her back and quickly loads in the sharp-tipped pierce rounds. She presses the stock against her shoulder, her head on a swivel as she scans for the unseen threat. She now knows that the tremors are footsteps, and judging by how hefty each step is, it has to be as tall as it is large and closing—fast.

            It’s eight seconds after the roar that she spots the beast as it rounds the corner. The bloody white fur of what Runa surmises to be a Blango hangs from its maw, rows of extra yellow fangs lining its jaw and chin. Its skin is a sickly green akin to vomit, riddled with growing red scars of varying intensity down to its tail. The look in its beady black eyes held so much malice and fury that she could only describe it as “savage”.

            With its mouth open and neck extended, the beast lunges to take a chunk out the huntress, only to eat a mouthful of snow as Runa dives out of the path of the monster. It’s the only monster she didn’t think to prepare for, because she didn’t want to even entertain the notion that she’d encounter it. It’s the one beast that’s more of a menace to the ecosystem than a rampaging elder dragon. The voracious creature that gives hunters of all ranks nightmares.

            The dreaded nomad, Deviljho, has arrived.


	3. A Savage Encounter

           Runa kicks up snow wildly as she scurries away from the Deviljho, putting distance between her and certain demise. Her mind is rattling like a dinghy in a hurricane, her focus and calm drowning in a sea of adrenaline and fear. When she feels steady enough on her feet, she whirls around and fires from the hip at the sickly green beast, three out of the four pierce bullets embedding themselves into the Jho’s slimy flesh to little effect. Realizing the beast hardly noticed her initial salvo, Runa thrusts her hand into her ammo pack and fishes out another set of piercing bullets to load into her rifle as the beast charges her down once again. The weapon is locked and loaded once the beast closes the distance between them, and Runa preemptively dives left to avoid what she thinks is the beast’s maw. The last thing she sees is the Deviljho’s hip closing in on her face—fast.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

           “C’mon, lass! Get up!” Drebit shouted, brandishing his hammer as he turns about looking for his prey. He was too far to pick her up again, but on the other hand it was exactly where he wanted to be, even if it broke his heart to see his baby girl in pain. “Daimyo’s diggin’ around! If yer not movin’ soon, it’ll snatch ya up again!”

           Tears stung fourteen-year-old Runa’s eyes more than the sand ever had. Amidst the blazing heat of the desert, her father had tracked down the crab beast Daimyo Hermitaur with the hopes of giving his daughter an easy hunt to practice on. Unfortunately for the father-daughter duo, it had been anything but. Runa’s delicate sensibilities didn’t match up with the harsh sunshine and infernally high temperature, and her inability to choose function over fashion made the trek next to unbearable. To top it off, the huntress-to-be found herself on the business end of a massive crab claw when she wasn’t paying attention (albeit of her own volition).

           Drebit managed to grab the beast’s attention by shouting at it, but it was only a temporary solution. It did little to soothe the writhing huntress in any way, whose entire body was wracked with pain. She had never bore the brunt of a monster’s attack before, and needless to say it was not something she would repeat in the near future.

           “What have I always told ya, little kelbi?” Drebit’s wizened eyes scan the ground for tremors, a clear-cut sign the Carapaceon was coming around for another attack. He had to be ready in case his daughter truly was immobilized rather than working through her woes. “Always keep yer eye on the prey! You move _with_ the beast, never before it! And if ya the wanna conquer a monster, first- “

           “Not…Not good time for a lesson, dad!” Runa snapped back at her father, wiping her eyes with a relatively sand-free portion of her wrist before she propped herself up on her elbows. It took more willpower than she thought she had left in her not to shriek, feeling the full extent of her aches when she was upright.

           “Yer not gettin’ out of this one, little lady. But I’ll talk yer ear off later.” The ground began to rumble and shake beneath his daughter, and Drebit could tell by the fearful look in her eyes that she realized the same thing he did. “Get up! MOVE!”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

           Her father’s words jolt Runa back into the present, and when she comes to she realizes just how hard she was hit. Her back is pressed against a wall of ice, and that familiar feeling of body-encompassing pain pulses through every nerve in her body. Nothing feels broken, but it’s hard for her to assess with the heavy rumbling of three Deviljhoes storming toward her. _Three? That can’t be right-_ Runa squeezes her eyes shut as she uses the wall to bolster her ascent onto her own two feet, and when she opens them she finds just the one Deviljho—and it’s on a warpath toward her, its disgusting maw open and awaiting its next meal. She reflexively reaches for her rifle to try and make the beast flinch, but something catches her eye from behind the Jho: the mahogany stock of her rifle, sticking out of the snow. _What luck…_ Runa grits her teeth, now helpless before a behemoth that has already knocked her out once before. Even **with** the gun she didn’t stand much of a chance, she knew that. But without it? She might as well put herself on a silver platter.

           The Deviljho lunges at the defenseless huntress, desperately snapping its jaws at its next meal. But Runa’s learned her lesson after getting up close and personal with the monster once before. Once it’s close enough for her to smell its rancid breath, she springs forward off the wall as hard as she can, sliding on her stomach like a Lagombi between the monster’s enormous legs. She doesn’t get much distance, but it’s enough to confuse the beast, sending it crashing neck-first into the wall as it tries to turn on a dime. The mountain itself seems to groan beneath the Deviljho’s substantial mass, the caverns within rumbling and shaking. If she isn’t careful, an avalanche will likely take the beast out for her…along with any hopes she has of getting away from this alive.

           As the bipedal beast struggles to get itself upright, the clever huntress wastes no time crawling to her weapon and—after checking to make sure it’s still loaded—turns around in the snow and fires the four piercing bullets into the beast’s softer, exposed underbelly. The Deviljho may not have felt the initial salvo, but judging by the way it howls now, Runa is sure that it felt **that**. As she rises so does her quarry, their eyes uncomfortably locked as they share mutual expressions of pain. Blood drips and stains the disheveled snow beneath the Jho as Runa hand loads a highly explosive cluster round into her rifle, ignoring her own slight trickle of warmth from the back of her head. She hadn’t noticed before, but stopping for a moment made her much more aware of her injuries. It isn’t fatal—she hopes—but the stinging is intense enough to make her hands tremble.

           As the beast digs its clawed feet into the snow to take another pass at Runa, she cocks the rifle. Cluster rounds—shells that burst into a dizzying number of smaller explosives—were the strongest her rifle could physically fire, and they had enough kickback to dislocate a hunter’s shoulder if they weren’t careful. She had only used the rounds once before on a hunt with her sister, and that Rathalos’ face was hardly recognizable after that. Sure, she spent the next week in a sling, but it helped solidify the fact that bullets like these are problem solvers. That Deviljho’s definitely a problem, and the trigger that her finger’s resting on is definitely the solution.

           The Jho is only able to take a single step toward the resolute huntress before she pulls that trigger and fires the explosive round, staggering as the behemoth of a shell erupts from the barrel of her rifle. Her footing might’ve wavered but her aim didn’t; the bullet ends up right between the Deviljho’s eyes, and a majority of its destructive payload crackles and rumbles as loudly as the beast’s roars of agony. The few bombs that didn’t land on the monster’s face found their way to its feet, kicking up dirt and snow in spectacular fashion. It’s almost beautiful in a way, and as she massages her surely bruised shoulder, Runa finds herself actually enjoying the snowy shower and the relief that comes with it.

           “Now **this** is a story.” Runa quips to the mountain with a tiniest of smiles. A moment passes, and it dawns on her that she’s talking to herself like a madwoman, making that smile grow. Her sister Tarja does hunts like this for fun, but apparently, all it takes the gunner is one for her to lose her marbles. Imagine that! That smile evolves into a grin, and before long the combination of stress and reprieve had her outright cackling. “I’m alive! Gods be praised, I’m alive! Oh, if Ma and Pa could see me now, they’d- “

           A single crimson eye pierces the airborne dust and debris, and the homicidal intent that shines through steals the breath right out of Runa’s lungs. As the dust clears the Deviljho’s form becomes more visible, and Runa can feel the color drain from her body. The sicky green scales on its face are now burnt to a crisp, only one of its eyes now useable. Most of the yellow protruding fangs on its face have been blown off, gaping bloody holes left in the wake of the bombing. It’s a horrifying sight to say the very least, especially for a woman now just wanted to collect some snow herbs and soak in a tub of hot water for the next month. Luckily (or perhaps unluckily?) for her, she isn’t given much time to look at it. The beast exhales slowly, releasing a strange black mist that swirls about its face like a vengeful spirit. Its facial features have disappeared, but what’s left to see doesn’t alleviate the ever-deepening sense of bone-chilling dread.

           “By the gods…” Runa breathlessly murmurs. Never before had her eyes fallen upon something so…evil. There’s no other word for it. It’s no wonder those hunters before her perished; this beast is beyond anything she could have ever imagined. The Deviljho’s chest inflates briefly before it bellows a roar so powerful that it makes her knees collapse under her. Despair leaves her in awe of the gargantuan beast, her brown eyes unblinking and fixated on the specter of death in brute wyvern form. She knows the entrance to the cave isn’t impossibly far from her. _I can make a break for it_ , the hopeful side of her thinks. _Run as hard as I can though the snow. Maybe even leave my gun behind, so it won’t slow me down. It can be replaced. I can’t._

           The savage-looking Deviljho’s roar tapers off as Runa musters up enough courage to slowly rise to her feet. She dips her shoulder to the right slightly, aggravating her bruise with a grunt as she slides the strap of her rifle off of her shoulders. She is cautious and deliberate as she stoops down to pluck the rifle from the snow, the beast watching her with voracious yet patient eyes. It knows it’s in a position of power, the scent of its prey’s rapidly drying blood nearly intoxicating. What’s a few more seconds of exceedingly slow movement from its next meal?

           The huntress’ trembling hands grip the barrel of her rifle as tightly as they can, slowly twisting her body into position for the most vigorous throw her little body could put out. The sensible side of her told her to hang on to her gun and run with it rather than letting it go. _Doesn’t it make more sense to have some kind of weapon on you? Mom always said if you were gonna die, go out fighting_. Runa wavers for a few seconds, her mother’s toothy grin flashing briefly through her mind. Rathia is nothing short of a whirling dervish of pain, acrobatic flips and vaults taking her airborne and grounding monsters. She’s also a glutton for punishment, not one to back down from a fight—fair, or unfair. It’s a trait that passed down to Tarja, but steered well clear of the youngest gunner. Being reminded of her mother is all the motivation she needs for her to whip the gun as hard as she can to the left. She’ll never be her mother, and there’s no reason for her to try to be.

           The sudden motion of the gun distracts the Deviljho for a few fleeting seconds as it cranes its neck to track the discarded gun. Runa is off like a lightning bolt, fighting the snow every step of the way as she capitalizes on the short moments she’s got before the Jho realizes it’s been tricked. The entrance to the cave seems miles away as she feels the beast’s sharp gaze lock onto the back of her skull. It cries out in fury, the massive monster now lumbering toward her at an alarming rate. It’s fast, but she’s faster—she thinks—pumping her arms faster, not bothering to even glance back at the black wraith in fear of stumbling. But it’s not the monster that makes her fall. Her foot catches on the body she had unearthed earlier, sending her ungracefully tumbling like a Volvidon though the snow.

           As she rolls over she audibly shrieks, the Savage Deviljho now looming over her and completely blocking out the sky. Her chest rapidly rises and falls like a cornered animal, using her sleeve as a makeshift shield from the beast’s putrid dripping saliva. With its legs on either side of her like prison walls, the Jho has finally captured its prey—and it’s famished.  The dreaded nomad throws its head back and lets out a triumphant howl to signal the end of the hunt, and for Runa it might as well be her funeral bells. Nausea clouds her search for an escape route, the Deviljho’s rotten saliva now soaked into her fur armor and filling her lungs.

           “Gods above!” She cries out, blazing hot tears streaming down the sides of her face. “I never should have come here! Oh gods, I shouldn’t have even woken up! I knew this was going to happen! I knew it! But I just **had** to tell my parents something! Why couldn’t I just lie to them?!”

           The Deviljho aligns itself with its lunch, mouth now open wide and ready to feast. Runa does her best to keep the saliva out of her eyes, but by now she’s oversaturated with the disgusting, viscous fluid.

           “Get it over with, then.” Runa speaks softly, wiping snot away with her knuckle. Her head lolls back into the snow gently, acceptance painted on her blank expression. Her eyes slowly shut. “I hope it’s quick, at least…”

 _Once you accept it, it’s not so bad._ The tension flows out of her slowly, and the rest of her body sinks into the snow. Not even feeling the Deviljho’s steaming breath against her face can break her peace now. _I never met grammy and grandpa. Maybe they’re waiting for me up there._

            After being sniffed for a moment, the Jho’s maw opens wide, and--

 **Splat**.

            The Deviljho lets out a disgusted, if somewhat muffled shriek and staggers backwards. Runa carefully opens her eyes to find her would-be murderer violently thrashing around and shaking...something off. The black mist makes it hard to see, but-

            Another object comes flying by from behind her, and this time she’s able to track it on its way toward the Deviljho. It’s a package, hastily wrapped, and loosely tied with rope. When it collides with its target, it bursts into a shower of...brown?

“My gods, is that...monster dung?”


	4. The Cat and The Coward

Judging by the sudden sour taste in the back of her mouth and watering of her eyes, Runa can easily conclude that the objects were dung bombs, smelly balls of rudimentary monster repellent that worked equally well on humans. They’re disgusting and more often than not used for pranks over protection, but when used in the right circumstances they can make a world of difference. As the Deviljho writhes and squirms trying to scrape the monster dung clean from its mouth and wounds, Runa is nearly beside herself with relief. She has officially cheated death, and does not intend to stay on the mountain any longer than she needs to. 

 

She rolls over onto her stomach to search for her savior only to find a rather smug looking brown-and-black striped Prowler standing not too far from her. It’s clad in the cutest sailor outfit Runa has ever laid eyes on, with a massive (at least, in relation to its size) barrel-shaped mallet resting on its shoulder.

 

“You saved me? You saved me!” Runa yelps incredulously. “Oh gods I have so many questions-”

 

“You think  _ you _ have questions? I haven’t seen another person that isn’t Credell in two days. Though I gotta admit,” The Prowler grimaces, eyes scanning the ridge to and fro. “you seem a little short-staffed and undergunned. Are you from the guild?”

 

“Wait, someone else is alive?!” Runa shrieks, her hands cupping her mouth to prevent further shouting. “And no, I-I’m here for a friend but-”

 

“Yikes. Guess we’re nyat out of the woods yet. Judging by those explosions I heard on the way up though, you can handle yourself in a fight. Unlike...” The Prowler trails off into muttering, sliding the handle of its hammer into a couple of cloth loops on the back of its sailor outfit. “We should probably leave, lady. I’m out of dung, nyah.”

 

She murmurs in agreement, walking behind the courageous cat as it drops to all fours and trots down into the cave. Runa glances behind her to see if she can spot her gun, but the Deviljho’s thrashing makes it impossible to spot anything specific anymore. Her heart sinks into her stomach.

 

Being back in relative safety lifts her spirits a tad, the echoes of the furious beast fading as they descend into the bowels of the Arctic Mountain. They pass through the amphitheater area she had once walked through alone, even passing by the exact path she had taken. Only, the Prowler leads them further down and completely bypasses Runa’s original walkway.  _ Was it really that easy? _ She quietly groans, gnawing on her bottom lip as her cheeks redden with embarrassment.  _ They were right here the whole time, and all I had to do was turn around and see them. Gods above… _ It takes a few shamefully silent minutes for them to climb down the naturally worn path, but when she reaches their destination, she finds herself in awe of the mountain’s beauty.

 

The entire alcove looks untouched by man, the same flawless ice Runa saw before now lining the walls, floor and the thick pillar that seemed to hold it all together. She’d love to live here, but to even think about harming this geological miracle made her cringe. The only thing that stands out of place is a brooding young man surrounded by various knapsacks, seated next to the pillar. His platinum blonde hair is speckled with dried blood, but he doesn’t look particularly injured. Not even his impressive set of broad-shouldered Zamtrios armor looks touched, nor the glowing Brachydios Charge Blade or even the helmet at his feet. A tad filthy, perhaps, but Runa still finds it all to be aesthetically pleasing.  _ Did he clean himself up? I didn’t think bathing would be a high priority right now… _

 

“Credell! Look alive, nyah!” The Prowler shakes its fur out and returns to standing on its hind legs, approaching the sullen young man.

 

“Eh…? What’d you bring back, Baldur? Find any more food?” The young man hardly moves, his eyes stuck on the ground.

 

“Not quite, but…” Baldur nudges Credell until he finally breaks his staring contest with the ice, and his expression rapidly shifts into a broad grin.

 

“I bet you’re from the guild, aren’t you?!” Credell kicks his weapon and helmet away as he stands, setting his armored hands firmly on Runa’s shoulders. “You’re here to save us! I didn’t even think anyone would be coming back for us!”

 

“W-Wow, hold on a second-” The man’s glee is overwhelming, just as the rest of him is. He stands a full head taller than she does, and his tight grip on her shoulders signals a deep desperation. Runa does her best to not appear intimidated, but being tough is not one of the huntress’ stronger traits.

 

“No wait, hold on.” He releases his grip suddenly, his eyes narrowing. He looks down the only path in expectantly, then examines the bedraggled gunner. His smile falls; his expression is as grim as when she walked in. “Who are you?”

 

“Um...my name is Runa.” 

 

“So you’re not one of the ace hunters.” He quickly notes with contempt. “Your armor looks like garbage. Do people actually wear Lagombi armor past rank one? In fact, what’s your rank?”

 

“Whoa there.” Runa takes a quick step back from the inquisitive hunter, now examining him with the same fine-toothed comb. “You mind easing up a little bit? In case you missed it, there’s a DEVILJHO outside. I went toe to toe with it ALONE.”

 

“And Baldur had to rescue you. Nice job on that.” Credell skips right past Runa’s response, clearly dissatisfied. “So the guild sends us some inexperienced, expendable little girl and thinks that she’ll be the one to escort us out while a Savage Deviljho roams the hunting grounds. I can’t believe this.”

 

“What is your DEAL?!” Runa shouts, her porcelain cheeks now beet red with indignation. “Shirley and I didn’t even think you were alive, much less this rude! This isn’t even an officially sanctioned guild venture! You should be thankful that I came at all!”

 

“Uh huh.” He scoffs, folding his arms across his chest and storming toward the other end of the cavern. “When you think of a plan that doesn’t get us all killed ‘savior’, you let me know noobie.”

 

A tense silence sets in, Runa visibly shaking with anger. She had risked life and limb getting up here for...this? For some clean-cut jerk that wasn’t even happy to see her? It’s beyond any realm of possibility that she could have ever imagined.

 

“I’m sorry about Credell, nyah.” Baldur tugs at Runa’s pants to grab her attention. Runa nods slightly, opting to sit down on the ground rather than lean down.

 

“Is he always this much of a...a butt head?” She huffs angrily. She hardly knows what to do with all of her pent-up irritation, her foot rapidly tapping against the ice.

 

“For the last two days I’ve known him, nyah.” The Prowler points toward a fat sack of zenny stashed under a backpack. “The guy paid me like I was royalty, told me he had an easy hunt for me. He had a whole team assembled.”

 

“He paid you to hunt for him?” Unable to maintain her rage, Runa finds herself leaning toward the striped cat with interest. “Was everyone being paid?”

 

“I’m not sure, I never saw them exchange zenny. There were two others besides us, but between you and me? I was definitely…” Baldur flashes her a toothy grin and strikes a dramatic pose, flexing nonexistent muscles in an effort to lift the thick veil of tension in the room. “the hired meowscle, nyah.”

 

At first, Runa isn’t sure how to react. The cat looks downright ridiculous, and the sailor outfit isn’t exactly doing it any favors. But the longer Baldur holds the pose the funnier it becomes, and before long the young woman’s high pitched, joyous laughter fills their cozy little alcove.

 

“I can hardly believe you and your grumpy buddy even came up together!” She wipes a few tears away from the corners of her eyes. The pain in her stomach from the hearty giggling dulls the pain in various parts of her body-back especially. “You two hardly seem like you’d be friends, let alone business partners.”

 

“Like I said, girly: when the pay’s good enough, doesn’t meowter who you get paired up with. None of us knew each other before we hopped onto that airship, nyah. Even weirder was  _ who _ he brought.”

 

Baldur waits a beat before he continues, purposely trying to drum up dramatic intrigue. Runa couldn’t lean in any closer if she tried.

 

“So first, there’s me nyah. The brains, the brawn, and of course, the dashing good looks.” Baldur winks at his captive audience, who cheerfully squeaks in response. “Then there was a guy in meowsive Uragaan armor and a high-tech looking great sword on his back. And there was a woman that didn’t have a weapon at all. Just a journal, a thick overcoat and an even thicker pair of glasses on her face, nyah.”

 

“Wait a minute.” Runa perks up, her initial glee overridden with inquisition. “A civilian? Credell brought a civilian to come into a dangerous hunting ground?”

 

“Mmmhm.” The Prowler nods, reaching for a discarded backpack and rummaging through it for a ration he might’ve missed. “Not just any civilian, either. An artist! She did such pretty art, she was showing me on the-”

 

“No no, stop Baldur. This doesn’t make sense. Right? That shouldn’t just make sense to you.” She pats the bipedal cat on its head as a silent dismissal of the conversation before returning to her feet, refocused on Credell. The more she learned, the less she understood. The guy brings an unarmed artist on a hunt, and his armor’s downright flawless. To her, it stinks worse than the monster dung…

 

“Credell!” Runa shouts, knowing full well that she could be heard if she spoke softer. “You need to give me some answers.”

 

He doesn’t respond; the blonde hardly even twitches as the huntress approaches. He’s very intent trying to ignore the woman.

 

“Credell. If you’re gonna hunt, why would you bring an artist along? You’re down a body in case of emergencies.”

 

His silence is deafening. By the pillar, Baldur subtly turns his gaze toward the two humans, hoping to get answers that he hadn’t even considered looking into.

 

“Why is your armor so clean? It looks new. Practically untouched.” Runa’s tone grows more serious, her brow furrowed with annoyance. She couldn’t stand being ignored.

 

Yet again Credell deflects the question with another rousing bout of silence, his hands falling to his sides.

 

“What are you even doing here, Credell? Spill it.”

 

“...It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Credell’s voice cracks as he breaks his self-imposed silence. “It wasn’t supposed to end this way.”

 

“Huh?” Runa is taken aback, the simple response rather confusing.

 

“I thought...I thought if I paid some people to fight for me, then I had someone draw my portrait, I could look cool.” 

 

Runa stands in stunned silence, finding herself unable to fully comprehend the man’s selfish motivation.

 

“No one was supposed to get hurt. I chose an easy but scary-looking hunt, hired the best I could find and expected to be home by dinner to pretend like I was a big hero. None of my friends hunt, so-”

 

“So you thought it’d be a good idea to drag people out here to boost your pride?!” Runa asks.

 

“S-Shut up, alright?! I don’t need you judging me!” Credell shouts in a shrill tone, stomping his feet as he throws a strange tantrum. Despite his imposing figure, it’s clear to Runa that he’s still just a teenager--or he’s older and behaves like a child. Neither scenario is desirable to her. “I know I messed up! Are you going to get me out or not?”

 

“Get YOU out?!” Baldur suddenly roars (or rather, squeaks), causing the stern huntress to flinch. The raging Prowler leaps up from his seat next to the pillar, marching with intent toward the cowering hunter. “You think after you got two other hunters killed we should even consider trying to bail you out? You should stay here and rot with the rest of them! We should use you as bait! We should-”

 

“I can’t just leave him here, Baldur. We both know that.” Runa grabs the cat by the scruff of its neck before it reaches Credell, holding him hostage until he finally stops struggling and hangs limp with his arms folded across his chest. “Even if he’s greedy and honorless, he doesn’t deserve to die.”

 

“Tell that to that lancer. Credell practically condemned the poor bastard to death, and for some undeserved bragging rights. Oughta be ashamed of himself, he should.” The cat trails off into quiet but rightfully angry mutterings, allowing Runa the chance to continue her conversation.

 

“I’ll make you a deal, Credell. Take it or leave it.” The blonde man’s scowl lightens only slightly as Runa speaks, the shame stinging his reddened cheeks. He knows he’s in no position to negotiate; why even bother giving him an option? “You put that charge blade to good use and help us kill that Deviljho, and we conveniently forget to let people know that you’re a fraud. Y’know, so you can hold on to what’s left of that precious ego of yours.”

Runa’s words hit the disgraced hunter like a shot to the gut. Credell knows he deserves it, but it doesn’t lessen the blow in the slightest. His fists clench and unclench, the sudden influx of shame encouraging him to lash out at his taunter for a fleeting moment. But the moment comes and goes, leaving through an exhale from flared nostrils. Something in him says that he’s better than that, though he’s not sure by how much.

 

“Hold your Kirins there, girly! You mean to tell me you wanna kill that thing? And you think that we CAN?” Baldur finds himself jumping back into the conversation, staring up at the huntress with disbelief. Credell finds himself on the same page, his expression softening to show astonishment rather than fury. “I’ve been on some dangerous hunts, but I think you’re aiming a little too high, aren’t you nyah?”

 

“We have to do what’s right, guys. We leave that thing here and it could kill again.” The back of Runa’s head throbs ominously as she speaks with resolve, as if to remind her of her last brutal run-in with the beast. “I don’t like it any more than either of you do, but...we’re hunters. We joined the guild for a reason. And now we have to do our jobs.”

 

“That’s crazy! You’re crazy!” Credell shouts, his eyes as wide as saucers. He had narrowly escaped from the monster to begin with, and now she means to face it head-on? Unbelievable! “I-I’ve never killed anything bigger than me before! And that...thing eats people whole! How are we supposed to kill that?!”

 

The corners of Runa’s lips twitch, hinting at a smile; she sees much of herself in this cowardly man. While her aversion toward hunting has never gotten anyone killed, she can certainly understand his fear. But if her hunting-obsessed family taught her anything, it’s that it doesn’t matter how hard you run. That monster’s always gonna be hot on your heels, and it’s up to you about whether or not you’re gonna face your fears.

 

“We wing it! It’s what my sister taught me, and unlike me she actually hunts for a living. As long as you don’t get bitten, you should be fine!” Runa’s facade of bravado seems to inspire Baldur, but Credell remains unconvinced. In fact, the man looks more exasperated than he did before, his blonde curl now drooping and hanging lazily on the side of his face.

 

“You don’t even have a weapon! What are you gonna do, kick it in the shin?” He fires back at Runa, who seems slightly taken aback at his observation.

 

“Hm. Hmmm…” Runa strokes her chin contemplatively, checking around the room and inside of the backpacks to see what supplies the two of them had dug up. There were potions and mega potions, hot drinks and the crumbs of eaten rations, but not a weapon to be seen. Her heart drops into her stomach, but she resists the urge to show it to her motley crew.

 

“Then I guess things are about to get a little complicated, aren’t they boys?”


	5. Face to Face With Death

“So what do we have, Baldur?” Runa asks over her shoulder, gingerly prodding the wound on the back of her head as she stares at the lengthy path up to the ridge. It’s a tad sticky with coagulated blood, but it’s not as bad as it could have been. It’s more than most could say after having a run-in with the dreaded nomad.

 

“Let’s see, nyah…” The Prowler groans, struggling to carry the mound of backpacks he managed to swipe on past supply runs over to his new leader. He drops the satchels in a pile near Runa’s heels, meticulously rifling through each pocket. “A couple meowga potions, a few hot drinks, a carving knife...and I think I might be able to rig up a shock trap with these thunderbugs if they’ve got any juice left, nyah. Not sure how long these things last.”

 

“I’m not doing any better. All I have are first aid medicines, hot drinks, a map and bullets. Loooots of bullets…” Runa trails off, her back feeling bare without that high-powered machine strapped to it. There used to be a time where she couldn’t be anywhere near it; now she feels uncomfortable being without it.  _ My, how times change… _

 

“Bullets with  **no gun to put them in** . This is a downright idiotic plan and you know it.” Credell poignantly reminds Runa as he attaches his Brachydios shield to his arm. Her eye twitches as she fights visibly flinching, refusing to turn around and address his intentionally unnerving words. He continues to air his grievances under his breath, finally hiding his dissatisfaction beneath the icy blue Zamtrios helmet.

 

“Would you mind fixing up that shock trap please? It doesn’t have to be perfect, just enough to buy us a second. And give me that carving knife, too! Might come in handy!” The huntress cheerfully hands out orders to the only one she knows will listen, and the prowler snaps to action as she expects him to. 

 

To call them scrappy would be an understatement, but to call them hopeless would be a gross falsehood. Runa knows full well the surprising strength a cornered animal can have, but in the end it was always her sister Tarja that bailed her out. At least, up until about a year ago...

 

“So, do you guys remember your roles? Last check, I promise.” Runa turns to face her makeshift hunting party. Baldur looks up briefly from his trap rigging before nodding, and the crystalline blue helmet begrudgingly turns as a sign of acknowledgement.

 

“I’m the distraction. I keep the Deviljho busy while you grab your gun.” The charge blader grunts, tapping the metallic, blue-sheened blade against his shoulder. The veins of the blade pulse with emerald slime in response to his tapping, as if it yearns for a hunt.

 

“I set up the trap under the icicles outside, nyah.” The prowler completes his tinkering, carefully tucking the small device under his arm. “That thing won’t know what hit it!”

 

“Then I knock the icicles off the ceiling, we drop them onto the Jho and we go home! Easy peasy!” Runa exclaims, beaming. Everyone knows their roles down to a ‘t’! Only Baldur seems confident enough in the odds of that happening to smile at the huntress, but he knew that their plan is only half-baked at best. It would take a serious stroke of luck for them to get the beast to follow them  _ exactly _ how they wanted it to, but what better option did they have? This is better than freezing to death...right?

 

The crew freezes as the Deviljho’s roar echoes through the caverns, a tense silence enveloping the three of them as they wait for the beast’s cry to finally peter out. Runa’s legs quiver, Baldur’s fur visibly bristles and though Credell’s face can’t be seen, his fidgeting betrays the stoic nature that the featureless helmet portrays.

 

“The uh...the trap is ready, nyah.” Baldur is the first to cut the tension, reminding them all of the impending ordeal waiting for them at the mouth of the cave. The Palico scoops the jury-rigged hunting tool into his furry arms, cradling it with immense care. The sight of the trap triggers the two humans to move, Runa removing the cork from a potion and throwing back the bitter herb beverage while Credell sharpens his weapons. With her pain dulled, his weapon battle-ready and the trap prepared, the three of them warily ascend the icy pathway back to the surface.

 

They make it only halfway up the path before they begin to hear another howl: the ghastly wailing of the icy winds outside streaming through the cave entrance. The unceasing gusts are not terrifying in themselves -- though they did little to bolster the confidence of the shaken hunters -- it does mean that the weather conditions outside have taken a drastic turn for the worst.

 

“Runa we have to turn back! Do you know how lucky you have to be to have ALL of this work in your favor?!” Credell shouts from the rear of the party. He refuses to budge another inch, no matter how many dirty looks Baldur shot him. Runa isn’t surprised to see that the first one to try and retreat is him, but to have it happen so quickly does frustrate her.

 

“I used to tell my sister the same thing!” Runa replies without missing a beat. She hardly misses a step; she’d go without him if he turned back. “And my pa and my ma, too! You know what they’d do?”

 

“What? Who are we talking-” Credell attempts to interject with questions, but the young huntress wastes no time waiting for him to speak.

 

“They’d charge right in! They’d run right at the monster! Rain, snow, magma...didn’t matter to them! Weapons drawn, heads held high! They tried to teach me to do the same, but…” She trails off, her enthusiasm wavering briefly. One can almost see a hint of something - Sadness, perhaps? Regret? - before her eyes shine brightly once more. “No more running! We’re hunters whether you like it or not!”

 

Baldur beams with pride, eagerly trotting forward to stay in step with Runa as Credell remains motionless, looking over his shoulder at the ice cavern depths.  _ Well it’s not my job to convince him to fight, so...guess it’s just the two of us now. _ She thinks, ignoring the ever so slight pain of abandonment.  _ So this is how Tarja felt. Probably even worse. I haven’t spoken to them in so long… _

 

Runa and Baldur emerge from the caverns and are immediately assaulted by gusts stronger than they ever thought they’d face in their lives. The Palico clings to Runa’s leg to keep from being swept away as Runa herself fights to stay upright, a gloved hand thrust into her satchel to dig out the hot drinks she packed. Between her trembling hands and nature itself she loses the first drink, but she manages to hang on to the next two for herself and her kitty companion. The strange concoction does little more than keep her from shaking uncontrollably, it can’t fight winter’s bite.

 

“Stay close!” Runa shouts to the Palico just above the din of the wind, and it responds by climbing up to her shoulder and sinking its claws into the woman’s fur-lined shoulder to anchor itself.

 

“I’ll keep an eye out for the Jho! Look for your gun!” Baldur says, able to avoid yelling by speaking directly into the woman’s ear. With a nod she sets off to search, but is quickly overwhelmed by the blizzard’s bluster. Fresh snow covers her footprints the moment she takes her foot out of them, and after what feels like an eternity of digging up mounds of what could likely be the same fresh powder over and over she looks up to herself lost in the midst of the ice and snow - a dangerous position to be in.  _ I can’t let Credell be right, damn it! I have to find this gun! _

 

A roar cuts through the din of the storm, but far weaker than it had been earlier. The Deviljho was seeking shelter, audibly battered by mother nature’s fury.  _ Perhaps Credell was on to something when he mentioned luck! _ Reinvigorated, Runa redoubles her efforts to find her missing weapon, tossing armfuls of snow left and right as she races against the monster to find it before it finds her.

 

“I’ll try to listen for its footsteps, nyah! Just hurry up and find that gun!” Baldur grips the ramshackle shock trap tighter to its body as its ears twitch and strain to focus on the beast’s lumbering footfalls and filter out the icy gales. Meanwhile the huntress’ spirited hunt for her weapons continues to turn up nothing despite her best efforts, and as she stands to examine her latest dig site, something catches her eye. Through the wind and snow, Runa swears she can see...green? In the ground? She kicks snow toward it and...it falls. The hunk of ice plummets, disintegrating as it tumbles down the mountainside.

 

“Gods-” She gasps, taking a few unsteady steps backwards until the cliffside disappears once more. “Baldur I’ve hit the edge!”

“You have to keep searching, nyah! It’s getting closer!” Baldur’s ears stand alert against the icy gales, its eyes now fixated on the lurking wounded predator.

 

“I can’t! There’s nowhere left to look!” She clenches her gloved fists, eyes darting to her left and right as she scans for some semblance of a gun-shaped snow pile. However, the ice and snow obscures her vision, not her thoughts! “Baldur! Give me the shock trap!”

 

Without hesitation the Palico drops the ramshackle shock trap into Runa’s waiting hand, and she immediately begins to dig out a hole in the ground to place the trap.  _ Improvise! That’s what my sister would do! _

 

Baldur tenses up as the Jho draws ever nearer, both the cat and the huntress now able to feel the rumbling from its thunderous footfalls. Acutely aware of their impending demise, Runa places the trap in silence, both sets of eyes cast forward unflinchingly. Once the trap is set she steps back, fishing out the carving knife from her bag and gripping it tightly between both hands. Broad-edged, serrated and well-maintained, it must’ve belonged to the actual hunter in the group.  _ I hope this knife is as strong as he was… _

 

Finally the Deviljho’s figure begins to emerge from the blizzard, and as the wounded beast’s face becomes more clear Runa finds herself shrinking further back toward the edge. Her eyes are fixed and unmoving, watching the mound of snow where she buried the trap with bated breath. It only needs to be nudged just a little once it’s primed to set it off, but there’s no telling if the ramshackle trap would even function underneath all this snow. Unfortunately for her, the monster’s leg comes into view with the other not far behind. It had unwittingly stepped over the trap.

 

Desperation kicks in, and in a moment of sheer brilliance Runa finally realizes what sort of improvising she needed to do. She yanks Baldur off of her shoulder, mouths the words “I’m sorry”, and throws it with all of her might at the ravenous beast. The airborne furball twists and turns wildly before aligning itself in the air with the Deviljho’s fleshy underbelly, claws extended like hooks.

 

“You have to get to stagger Make it fall into the trap!” Runa shouts as the cat crashes into the monster.

 

Baldur is furious with the sudden change in plans, but he knows better than to waste time making a fuss about it now. He spends that pent up anger ripping apart the monster’s soft stomach, tirelessly dragging his claws back and forth in every effort to make his presence known.

 

And noticed he is!

 

The dreaded nomad roars in agony, tiny arms unable to reach the cat-sized tick steadily draining it of its black blood. It thrashes and flails hopelessly, nearly falling forward trying to catch a glimpse of Baldur until it comes up with an ingenious idea: to try and mash itself against the wall and squish the irritant. As it turns sharply to escape, the Deviljho kicks the snow pile and trips the trap. 

 

Everything falls into place.

 

The thunderbugs spring to life and sting the Deviljho, sending paralytic venom coursing through the beast’s body. Another cry of pain is cut short as it freezes in place, body racked with convulsions akin to being electrocuted. Runa seizes upon her chance with fervor, scrambling through the snow and climbing up the beast to mount it the way her mother taught her to.

 

“Stab it with all your might, over and over…” She murmurs, mimicking the elder huntress. “Doesn’t matter where you stab it. You wanna bring the beast to its knees. No angles, or you’ll break your blade.”

 

Runa raises the knife above her head, the wind robbing her of her breath. She can feel her heart clash against her chest, threatening to break free as her arms begin to tremble. The the blade - or perhaps it’s her conscience - seems to grow in weight, inopportune fear setting in like a wet blanket. She’s never mounted a monster before, never been close enough to  _ smell _ a monster, never had blood on her hands before-

 

The Deviljho bucks, regaining motor functions as the thunderbug venom’s effects wear off. Even if she knows has serious issues with this, hesitation means death.

 

She plunges the blade into the beast’s hide. Its head whips around to try and catch a glimpse of the second irritant attached to it, but to no avail.

 

She yanks the knife free, finds another open spot and shoves the knife in again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

 

The Deviljho cries out, writhing and flopping as it does everything its power to shake Runa and Baldur. It rolls erratically and smashes itself against the wall to try and dislodge its assailants, with the desperate huntress and her comrade hanging on for dear life against all odds. All the while, nothing stops Runa from driving the blade into the Jho like a madwoman, battling both the monster and her gag reflex to keep her traction. The blade itself does most of the work, rending the beast’s flesh as she slides, only for her to climb back and leave new holes in her wake.

 

Finally, the beast gives in! Its rampaging slows to staggered stomping, and before long it flops ungracefully onto its face. Runa pries the knife free and slides down the beast’s thigh to solid ground, only to find the earth spinning and trembling under her feet. She collapses onto one knee to try and steady herself, but the world only spins faster. Her head is a typhoon of emotions, her heart reaching speeds she never thought possible. The sheer amount of adrenaline running through her veins peters out, and in its place comes the pain from being bucked and slammed like a ragdoll. 

 

The last thing Runa remembers is the oppressive storm growing lighter.


	6. A New Life

Dawn breaks the next day, and Runa is jolted awake as the morning sun caresses her face. Much to her surprise she’s in her bed, tucked in uncomfortably tight and dressed in her night clothes. She peels the blankets away and grimaces as she rolls out of bed, holding in a sharp cry of pain as she sits upright. Her hand instinctively darts to her side to address the pain, becoming cognizant of the bandages wrapped around her wrist - and her head. The Deviljho had done a number on her -Runa expected as much - but she’s more shocked to see the state her room is in.

 

Her normally neat room is a mess, clearly rummaged through. Her wardrobe is flung open, the clothes wrinkled and out of order; bullets and bottles strewn on the floor next to her shredded and bloodsoaked Lagombi armor; her leather sling pack tossed into the corner of the room, haphazardly discarded with no regard for organization or even a modicum of respect for her things.  _ Did someone  _ **_actually_ ** _ break into my house? And while I’m unconscious? Talk about low. _

 

Runa lets out a pained grunt as she struggles to her feet, carefully stepping over the minefield of potions and ammunition on the way to the door. She didn’t know what exactly she’d be able to do in her condition, but after the hell she’s been through she knows nothing could be worse. The huntress’ frail hand pushes her door open to begin the search for answers, only to find her path blocked by a gargantuan woman cloaked in the navy blue and crimson flames of the Glavenous armor.

 

“Oi. Yer movin’ a little fast, aint’cha?” The woman’s gruff voice is strangely soothing, and very familiar.

 

“...Tarja?” Runa squints, and sure enough she spots that distinctive dreadlocked hair and a sympathetic smile. “W...What? What are you doing here?”

 

“Call it coincidence.” Tarja admits with a simple shrug. “Ma and Pa wanted me ta tell ya 'bout somethin', so I took an airship over yesterday. I ended up waitin’ for ya, and when ya showed up bein’ carried by yer buddies I figured it was time ta do my job.”

 

“My buddies?” The younger huntress groggily inquires with a slight frown. Looking out into the center of the village, she spots Baldur with its arm in a sling and Credell in his clean Zamtrios armor, both speaking with Shirley. They wore the gravest of expressions, huddled together in apparent concern.

 

“Aye. The three of ‘em brought yer unconscious body back from yer trip. Which I also heard about.” Runa cringes, but Tarja simply beams. “Aside from the part where ya prattled off like a madwoman 'bout the family, I’m pretty impressed. You and yer cat took down a Savage Deviljho with nothin’ but yer wits and a snowstorm to back ya up. Reminded me of Ma’s old stories.”

 

Runa can’t help but smile now; she hadn’t ever been compared to either of her parents before. Compliments on her prowess were practically nonexistent.

 

“Okay, so at least I know how I got home. But why is my house a mess…?”

 

“I had no idea where any of yer stuff was, and I had ta make sure yer cuts and stuff didn’t get any worse. Bit of a rush situation, sis.” Tarja admits with a playful shrug. “Not like I  **wanted** ta make a mess cuz I missed ya a bunch. Nah.”

 

A knowing smile creeps onto Runa’s face as her eyes narrowed to slits. Tarja’s always been the type to pull little practical jokes here and there; Runa’s at least pleased to know that after being gone a few years, she hasn’t changed a bit.

 

“I’ll deal with you later, dummy.” Runa nudges the colossal huntress (who hardly budges), then hobbles down into the town square with the biggest smile that she can muster up.

 

The trio at the bottom of the hill continue to chat until Baldur’s ears twitch, and as it turns around its eyes light up with delight, excitement, relief, joy - the palico finally feels like it can breathe again as it watches Runa shuffle toward it. Before long Credell and Shirley take notice as well, and follow behind the cat as it bounces through the snow. Despite the pain Runa finds herself lurching faster, nearly losing her footing on the way down the hill.

 

“Runa, nyah!” Baldur hugs the woman’s shin tightly, nearly knocking the weakened huntress off kilter with its enthusiasm. The Palico chirps and purrs with delight, and the young woman’s weary smile becomes relieved laughter.

 

“I can’t believe you guys dragged me back!” Her eyes fall on Credell, and he simply shrugs in response. She can tell he’s trying hard to maintain his ‘cool and collected’ persona, and it irks her to no end.

 

“You uh...you really saved my bacon. I couldn’t just leave you there…” The young man clears his throat, giving Runa a pleading look. He hadn’t exactly come through the way she asked him to, but he helped her all the same. She’s simply too kind to expose the man’s cowardly antics.

 

“R...Right. Yeah. I appreciate that.” She exhales sharply from her nostrils, releasing the dark secret into the brisk morning air.  _ He’s learned his lesson. Probably, anyway. _ “It was rough but I’m glad we’re all safe and sound. I’ve...I’ve never done anything like that before. It was unreal-”

 

“I didn’t think any of you were gonna make it back!” The guild quest giver interjects. “I thought I sent you to your death and when you all came back-” Shirley’s puffy and bloodshot eyes manage to find tears manage to find tears she thought she had depleted hours ago. She turns away slightly, covering her face to mask her tears. “Oh gods I promised I wouldn’t cry, this is the third time today!”

 

“I’m really glad you’re safe, nyah!” The cat’s muffled voice exclaims. Runa was probably most relieved to see the warrior felyne, relishing in the tiny embrace and welcoming words. “I haven’t seen guts like that in a long time, kid! I had my doubts, but not anymore!” The cat detaches itself from her leg to stand back and beam with pride, paws on its hips.

 

“You guys…” Runa murmurs, sniffling as she dabs at the corners of her eyes. Confidence swells inside of her, the butterflies in her stomach making her feel as though she could take off and soar. “Oh...goodness, you guys are too kind. I guess I’m more of a huntress than I thought I was…”

 

“Of course ya are. It’s in yer blood. Ya just try ta run from it all the time.” Tarja declares with a hearty chuckle as she approaches, towering above Runa and the others. She acknowledges each of Runa’s acquaintances with a nod and a pleasant smile, but not even that could diminish the terrifying presence of a woman with enough bloodthirst to slay a Great Jaggi at the ripe age of 6.

 

“You sound just like Pa does…”

 

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong eh. One way or another, the hunt’s gonna find ya.”

 

Runa pauses; a retort stays trapped inside of her indignantly puffed cheeks. Their parents stressed just how important of a job it was to hunt on behalf of the guild, trained them as children and even walked them into the guild to acquire licenses. She might’ve been good at it, but enjoying it was another matter entirely. The pain she felt when capturing the monster failed was...excruciating, to say the least. But no matter how hard she fought it, the gun she used to have couldn’t go unloaded. Tarja couldn’t be more right; the hunt  _ always _ managed to sniff Runa out.

 

“So...what will you do now, Runa?” Shirley clears her throat, offering up an exhausted smile. “Probably just rest, huh?”

 

“I was thinking so, yeah.” She reaches back and rubs the back of her neck, careful to avoid her bandaged head wound. Her eyes naturally come to rest on the mountain’s peak, ever-shrouded in icy clouds. “Y’know...I never got that snow herb. It would have tied my room together…”

 

“Forget that! I got a surprise trip planned fer ya!” Tarja proudly declares, firmly turning her sister around to face the airship attendant at the edge of the village. Another woman ill-equipped for the winter weather, Runa hadn’t spoken to her since she arrived. Why inquire about a ticket out when she planned on permanent residence?

 

“Where am I going?” The words form slowly as the younger huntress turns to face her elder sibling, eyes narrowed with an expression of tremendous uncertainty.

 

“Not just you. Both of us!”

 

“That doesn’t make me feel any more comfortable. The last time you surprised me with a trip we laid in the mud with Barroths…”

 

“Trust me! There’ll be much less mud, promise. We’re gonna go...explorin’! New things ta see, flowers ta pick, monsters ta hunt…there’s a whole continent out there that the Research Guild’s found. But you and I are gonna do a lil training before we go. No more runnin’ from the hunt, ya hear?”

 

Runa’s expression twists, distorted with both excitement and confusion. The idea of exploring somewhere new would be incredibly fun, but fully embracing hunting is such a foreign concept to her that she can’t figure out how she feels...

 

“The only way you’ll let me onto the boat is if I start hunting, isn’t it…?” She asks meekly, and Tarja simply nods in response. It places the young woman in a precarious position, and her confusion only deepens.

 

“Can I go with you two, nyah?” The question is so unexpected that Tarja herself is taken aback, staring at the Palico with a mild amount of awe. “Runa’s got talent. It’s in there somewhere, and I wanna see what she can do with some practice. I’m even willing to work for free, nyah.”

 

“Oh, gods-” Runa mutters with a slight frown. The walls were closing in on her fast, now. Four sets of eyes watching her intently, waiting on bated breath for her final decision. “I’m not sure…”

 

“I’ll buy you a new bowgun, too. It’s...it’s the least I can do for you. I’ll have quite a bit of extra coin after I sell this armor off.” Credell chimes in quietly. Runa can look at him and tell that knows he can’t pay to absolve himself, but the subtle knowledge that he won’t do something so reckless again is a step in the right direction.

 

“And...and I can arrange to have your things sent with you! I still have a lot of friends in the guild, it won’t be a hassle at all!” Shirley jumps in as well, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with her sleeve. Runa never would have never guessed that even the woman that she only visited to get assignments from to be so kind...and perhaps a tad dramatic. “Please. You put your life on the line to make hunters in this village a little safer. Let us help you.”

 

With the support from her acquaintances overwhelming her, Runa couldn’t help but to give in and allow herself to be trained. Within a few days she had recovered fully, and by week’s end the life Runa spent years building in the quiet little ice village had been packed away. She traded in luxury sheets for roughly hewn sleeping bags; a cozy home for a life constantly on the move; a life of picking flowers for trapping monsters. And while she might’ve hated it in the beginning, she grew to tolerate the hunt. She developed a respect for monsters not based around non-violence, but instead a reverence for their awesome strength. Every day was a new lesson, every day another step toward her next adventure:

 

The New World.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time giving serious writing a chance, so please give me any and all feedback you've got! I want to improve for future chapters and stories!


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